


Amok Time II

by MadameAngel



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pon Farr, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameAngel/pseuds/MadameAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the end of the Original Series but before the Motion Picture, something happened between Kirk and Spock.  But what was it, exactly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The theory on which this story is based can be found on YouTube, in The Ship's Closet episode 1.

_Watching: (noun) the act of observing; taking a patient look._

__

* * *

 

Kirk felt very out of place. Here he was in his Starfleet uniform, when everyone else around him was wearing variations of the same skimpy leather outfit. Well, except for Spock and McCoy, but they didn't really count. Kirk almost laughed out loud at the thought of Spock in one of those leather outfits, but quickly shook the image out of his mind.

"There he is, Captain," Spock said, nodding. Kirk followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the center of the clearing stood Kyrjk, the emperor of Faryk. His body was completely naked, save for the loincloth of dark brown leather around his waist. His purple skin was entirely hairless, with the exception of one long silver braid that draped over his shoulder. Kirk strode purposefully towards him.

"Kyrjk," he said, bowing slightly.

"Captain Kirk," Kyrjk replied. "I am glad you were able to come. As you know, the ceremony does not start until dawn, but I believe you will enjoy spending the night on our planet."

"I always have," Kirk replied.

"Syri," Kyrjk said, turning to a woman at his side. "Bring them some bedding." Syri turned and walked to the edge of the clearing, where a hundred or so fur bedrolls were stacked. She walked slowly back, the bundle looking a bit awkward in her hands, and Kirk took advantage of the time to look her over. She was short for a Farykkian, about his height. Her leather skirt was short too, Kirk noticed. She'd laced a loose-fitting leather vest over her top half, and her long silver hair swished attractively around her purple body as she walked. Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk could see Bones trying not to grin. Yes, Syri was just his type, thin and leggy.

After Syri walked away again, Kyrjk pointed Kirk into the woods, saying that there was another clearing three hundred steps away that they could stay in for the night. Kirk didn't bother mentioning that the Farykkian had much longer legs than any of them, even Spock.

"That was  _not_  three hundred steps," Kirk said when they finally reached their clearing.

"Three hundred eighty-seven, to be exact, Captain," Spock said.

"Thank you, Spock," Kirk said with a small smile. "Now, we should gather firewood before it gets any darker. Spock, you get kindling and tinder. Bones and I will gather larger sticks and branches." Spock nodded wordlessly and strode across the clearing, setting his bedroll down exactly in the center. Kirk and Bones walked over to find a fire pit set in round grey stones. They dropped their bedrolls by Spock's and headed into the woods.

Fifteen minutes later they were back, but Spock wasn't. McCoy dumped his "medium sticks" into one pile, and Kirk put his "large sticks" in another.

"This reminds me of the camping trips I used to take as a kid when I was in the Academy," McCoy said, looking around.

"Me too," Kirk replied. "It was so refreshing to get away from city life every now and again." He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of fresh, living air. It was a welcome change from the stale, re-circulated air aboard the  _Enterprise_. He looked west, across their clearing. Only a sliver of Faryk's white sun showed above the horizon. "I hope Spock gets back soon with that kindling," he said. "If he takes any longer, it'll be too late to build a fire."

"If Faryk had a moon, this wouldn't be a problem," McCoy said.

"But it doesn't. Besides, it does get pretty cold here at night, especially this far north. We'll need that fire for more than just light." Kirk stretched out on the silver-green grass, putting his bedroll under his head for a pillow. "Also, the animals on Faryk can get vicious, especially if they're hungry. Fire keeps them at bay."

"I know you're making that up," Bones said accusingly.

"He is not."

Kirk looked up. Spock was striding towards them, his hands full. One obviously was full of the dark green-purple evergreen needles from the trees that covered Faryk. The other was full of something fluffy. Kirk hoped to God it wasn't a tribble. He'd had enough of those to last a lifetime. He fought back a grin as he watched Spock approaching. He couldn't explain the happiness he felt around Spock, but there was just something so comforting about having Spock always there, a constant presence at his side.

"You just had to take all day about it, didn't you, Spock?" Bones griped. Spock arched his right eyebrow.

"I was only gone 37.6 minutes, doctor," he said. "Days on Faryk are 32.8  _hours_ —"

"Forget it," Bones interjected. "Let's get this fire built before we freeze to death."

Spock set his fluff down in the center of their fire ring. It turned out to be the shredded bark of some rare tree that Spock, of course, had managed to find in the forest. After trying – and failing – several times to make a spark with flint and steel (or something like it), Kirk surrendered the tools to Spock. The Vulcan gave one efficient strike, and a shower of white sparks leapt into his carefully constructed pile of kindling. Bit by bit, they added needles, and then sticks and branches, to the growing fire. Before long, they had a nice blaze going.

"Makes me wish I had some marshmallows," Kirk said.

"Marshmallows, Captain?" Spock asked.

"They're a… hm, how would you explain them, Bones?"

"A sticky, sugary, puffy, weird sweet that you roast over a campfire and eat with chocolate on a cracker," McCoy said.

"Fascinating," Spock said. Kirk laughed.

"I'll have to see if the replicator can make them. I think you'd enjoy 'em, Spock," Kirk said, cocking his head to one side. "Maybe." Spock made a mental note to disable the replicator's marshmallow-making abilities. Refined sugars didn't sit well with the Vulcan metabolism.

"That Kyrjk seemed to really like you, Jim," McCoy said.

"Yes, well, we met a year ago, when Faryk joined the Federation. At first I think he liked me because our names are so similar. Since it's the one-year anniversary, and his one-hundred thirty-ninth birthday, he wanted me to be here for the occasion." Kirk leaned back and looked up at the stars. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it was here," he said.

Spock watched him closely in the white-blue light of the fire. It threw the shadows on his body into sharp relief. Spock found his eyes tracing the curve of Jim's neck as the firelight danced over his skin.

"Bones," Kirk said, "what do you make of Faryk so far?"

"I like it," McCoy said. "It's very different, and I don't think I've ever seen so much purple in one place before, but I find the natives very… pleasing."

"Yes," said Spock dryly. "Especially that female, Syri, unless I am mistaken." McCoy glared at him, and Kirk laughed again. His teeth gleamed extra-white in the bright light from the fire. A cool breeze swept through the clearing. Kirk shivered and scooted instinctively closer to the fire and to Bones. Spock's eyes narrowed. A low growl echoed through the clearing, and for one disconcerting moment, Spock thought it was coming from him.

"See that?" Kirk said to Bones, pointing to the edge of the woods. A pair of pale yellow eyes glowed back at them, almost impossibly high above the ground. "That's one of those animals I was telling you about. They look a lot like the Yeti who supposedly lived in the Himalayan Mountains on Earth."

"They do," Spock said again. "It is their fur that will be keeping us warm tonight. Since Kyrjk's clan lives so far north, they make their bedding out of whatever animals live in the area. Further south, the bedding is made of fur similar to that of a deer or an elk. There are no buildings on Faryk, so the bedding must be thick, even near the equator of the planet."

"Thanks for the geography lesson, Spock," McCoy grumbled. He turned to Kirk. "What sort of pranks did you play when you went camping as a boy, Jim?"

Kirk pondered that for a minute. His eyebrows scrunched together over his hazel eyes. The white light of the fire brought out the green flecks in his irises. If Spock had to choose a favorite color, it would be green. As Spock watched him, Kirk's eyes flicked over to meet his. The Captain held his gaze for a moment, then glanced back at McCoy.

"Pranks…" Kirk mused. "I guess I did all of the usual ones, putting a frog in someone's sleeping bag, things like that."

"Well we all did those things," McCoy said. "Did you do anything extreme?"

"Not really, no," Kirk said, giving his head a shake. The firelight caught on the blonde highlights in his hair. Spock had a fleeting moment of fondness for whatever it was that made the fire burn white. Faryk was full of previously un-discovered elements. He was looking forward to getting back up to the  _Enterprise_  so he could analyze his tricorder readings with the ship's computer.

"Why do you ask, McCoy? Did  _you_  pull any extreme pranks?" Kirk asked.

Another cool breeze blew through their clearing, sending white sparks into the air where they blended with the stars. Kirk scooted closer to McCoy again. Spock knew that it was reasonable for him to do so, they needed to keep their bodies warm on this cooling planet, but he couldn't keep himself from focusing on the distance between Kirk and McCoy's bodies. If he had to guess, it would be about nine tenths of an inch. Curiously, McCoy didn't seem to mind. Then again, he was a doctor and therefore understood the need to keep warm.

"Oh yes, I pulled some pranks that were…quite extreme. Why, there was this one time that we…"

Spock tuned out the doctor's reminiscing and turned to unfurl his bedroll. The thick fur was dark grey and grew out of black leathery skin. It was wide enough to lie on one half and still have room to fold the other half over one's body. He folded his hands across his chest and looked up at the stars. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jim glance at him every few minutes, but the Captain didn't say a word. After a while, McCoy ran out of things to say and turned to lay out his bedroll.

"These are softer than I remember them being," Kirk said.

"Maybe the Yeti have started using shampoo," McCoy said. Spock fought the urge to roll his eyes but didn't waste his time telling McCoy how illogical it was for a "monster" to use shampoo.

Kirk gave a tiny chuckle, which made Spock suspect that he'd seen his expression. Spock watched out of the corner of his eye as McCoy and Kirk lay down on their bedrolls, making a triangle around the dying fire.

McCoy fell asleep quickly, sprawled out unattractively on his bedroll. Spock tuned out his light snores as easily as he had tuned out his rambling earlier. After a long while, Jim's breathing deepened and slowed, and Spock knew that his Captain was finally asleep.

Spock hoisted himself up onto one of his elbows and looked over at Jim. His chest rose and fell slowly. He was evidently very relaxed here on Faryk, untroubled by the hungry carnivores that were circling the clearing. Spock could hear heavy paws treading the needle-strewn ground. He sat up, picking a long stick out of the woodpile. He poked at the fire to keep it alive, staying awake to make sure that the Captain's sleep was undisturbed. As a Vulcan, Spock didn't need to sleep as often as a Human did, so he saw it very logical to stay awake and make sure that the Captain got as much sleep as he needed.

Spock sat awake through the long, cool night, tending the fire and counting the Captain's breaths.

There were exactly ten thousand and eighty.


	2. Chapter 2

_Close: (adj) - 1) Near in interests, affection, etc.; intimate, familiar. 2) Secretive, reserved, reticent. 3) Carefully guarded. 4) Shut away from observations; hidden; secluded. 5) Accurate; logical; precise._

* * *

"Stay there, Jim," McCoy said sternly.

"Certainly,  _Captain_  McCoy," Kirk said, stepping back onto the transporter pad. The corner of Spock's mouth twitched and Kirk smiled.

"Decontaminate us, Mr. Scott," McCoy said.

"Bones, really, this is totally unnecessary," Kirk said, raising his voice to be heard over the thrum of the decontamination. "There's no parasite or disease on Faryk adapted to harm Humans. . . . Or Vulcans," he added as an afterthought.

McCoy turned to Spock. "Will you please explain to Jim that it is perfectly reasonable to decontaminate when returning from a new planet?"

"The doctor is correct in his reasoning, Captain. Decontamination is a safe and logical course of action after visiting a foreign planet," Spock said. Bones looked smugly at Kirk. "However," Spock continued, "it  _is_  unnecessary."

"Humph," McCoy grumbled. "No harm in being careful."

"Of course not," Kirk said. "Thanks for looking out for us, Bones." He clapped the doctor on the shoulder in a friendly way, but his eyes followed Spock as the Vulcan strode from the transporter room.

Upon reaching his quarters, Spock set his tricorder and the samples he took from Faryk carefully upon his desk and then stripped out of his uniform, tossing the soiled clothes into the chute that led to the maintenance deck. He headed into his shower. Sleeping in his uniform always made him feel unclean, and the stale smell left over from their small campfire was bothering his nose. After his shower, he planned to spend several hours analyzing and cataloguing the samples he had picked up on Faryk.

He closed his eyes, letting the hot water pour down over his face. The rushing water in his ears blocked out all other noises. The almost-silence was refreshing. Having hearing three times stronger than a Human's was usually a blessing, but sometimes a curse. Since the  _Enterprise_  had been built on Earth, the walls were soundproof to Human ears, but with his Vulcan hearing, Spock was still able to hear sounds through them. Even the silence of a night on Faryk had been broken for Spock.

Ten thousand eighty breaths… The number stood out sharp in his mind.

After his shower, Spock put on a fresh uniform and sat down at his desk. Picking up his tricorder, he slid the small memory card out of it and into his computer monitor. His mind seemed unwilling to focus on the task at hand, however. There was something nagging at the back of his mind. He did not allow the thought to make itself heard, as it did not seem to be of immediate importance, but rather of a selfish nature. As the computer stored and sorted his tricorder readings, his mind wandered back to Faryk. He had been fascinated with the planet and, while cataloguing and naming his discoveries on the computer was sure to be diverting, he wanted a person with whom to discuss his discoveries. Perhaps the Captain would join him in a game of chess that evening.

It was then that the nagging urge in the back of Spock's mind made itself known:  _find the Captain_. It sprang forth with such urgency that Spock didn't have time to log it away as merely a rare emotional whim. He stood.

"Data sorted," the computer said. Spock was not there to hear it. The samples he had gathered lay abandoned on his desk.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Spock," Kirk said cheerfully. A miniscule frown of confusion crossed Spock's features. He was certain that his quiet tread would be drowned out by the ambient noise that always dominated the bridge. How could Kirk have known…? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, it was replaced by another. The turbolift door was squeaky. He would have to tell someone from maintenance to repair it.

"Good afternoon, Captain," Spock said, resting his hands on the back of Kirk's chair.

"Spock, would you join me in a game of chess this evening?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating," he said.

"What?" Kirk asked, swiveling his chair around to face Spock.

"I came to ask you that very same question." Spock could feel the smile creeping up his face and did his best to keep it at bay. Judging by the look on Kirk's face, he had failed.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," the Captain said, grinning.

"Of course, Captain."

Kirk turned around again to give some orders to Chekov and Sulu. As Spock headed to his science station, Uhura gave him a small and slightly conspiratorial smile. He raised his eyebrow at her, and she very nearly giggled. Spock was more than slightly puzzled, but he put it out of his mind for the time being.

Later that evening, Spock sat at his usual corner table in the main cafeteria, eating some fruit. The Captain came in and ordered some mashed potatoes from the replicator.

"Spock," he said, sitting at a table across the room. Spock looked over at him. "Come over here and be sociable." He pulled out the chair next to him. Spock stood and picked up his plate, but before he had gotten halfway across the room, Yeoman Rand slid into the chair that Kirk had pulled out for him.

"Captain," she said eagerly, "a bunch of us are going to have a vitronic-B tournament on the recreation deck after dinner. We've heard you're pretty good. Would you like to play with us?"

Kirk glanced at Spock over Rand's shoulder. "Well…" he began uncertainly.

"The Captain and I are engaged to play chess this evening, Miss Rand," Spock said. Rand jumped, unaware of the Vulcan's presence. Spock's face remained impassive. "Though I am sure he would love to join you another time."

"Okay," Rand said, scooting nervously out of the chair. "Another time then, Captain."

Spock slid into the chair and looked at Kirk. The Captain was frowning. "Are you alright, Jim?" he asked. Kirk looked up at him. Spock's face was still expressionless, closed. "If you would like to join them, we can of course play chess on another occasion."

Jim was silent for a moment. "No, Spock. I asked you to play chess, and so we'll play chess. To be honest, I don't much care for vitronic-B."

The ghost of a smile flickered in Spock's eyes. "I apologize, then, for telling the yeoman that you would join her another time," he said.

Kirk gave a small laugh. "Don't worry about it. We'll be busy for the next few days anyway. It's time for 'spring cleaning.'"

"Captain, you are aware that it is already July by the Terran calendar, and therefore three months late for 'spring cleaning.'"

"Yes, well, I've been a bit lazy," Kirk said with a shrug. "But we've got a rendezvous with Admiral Komack. He wants us with him to represent Starfleet when the Argelians inaugurate their new Prefect. He'll probably want to visit the  _Enterprise_  as well, so we should have her in top condition."

"I was unaware that Jaris' term was over," Spock mused.

"It wasn't. He resigned because of what happened with Rejik. It was too much for him."

They were silent as they finished their food. Spock found himself watching the Captain's spoon as it moved from his mouth to his plate and back again with almost morbid fascination, and dropped his eyes back to his own plate.

Ten thousand eighty breaths…

"Come on, Spock," Kirk said, getting to his feet. "Let's go play chess." Spock stood up slowly and followed the Captain from the room. "Is the recreation deck okay?" Kirk asked.

"Of course, Captain. I have no personal preference as to the location."

"Just as long as you can keep me out of that vitronic-B tournament, we'll be fine," Kirk said with a small smile.

Spock's eyes narrowed slightly. "Certainly," he said.

* * *

"Two out of three?" Kirk asked with a smile.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I see no reason why not," he said. His eyes drifted past the Captain to where a group of ensigns and yeomen were huddled around the vitronic-B table. Yeoman Rand kept looking over to where they sat, at one of the corner tables in on the recreation deck.

"What is it that you keep looking at over there, Spock?" Kirk said, starting to turn.

Spock shook his head at him. "Don't turn. Miss Rand keeps looking over here. She is probably still hoping that you'll join them in their tournament."

Kirk shrugged. "Well, I don't plan to."

Spock nearly smiled. He caught himself just in time. No sense in actually admitting that he was happy. It was enough to simply know that he  _was_ happy. He had always enjoyed the Captain's company over others', though he had not always known exactly why. But he was able now to recognize the closeness and the contentment that he felt. He had never had friends as a child on Vulcan. Those children were cruelly logical in their belief that, since Spock was not a full Vulcan, he did not belong. Jim Kirk was his first real friend. Kirk accepted that he was a child of two worlds, and had asked him, "Why fight so hard to be a part of only one world? Why not fight instead to be the best of both?"

He had never before realized just how deep his affection for the Captain went. He had always thought that if, for any reason, he and Jim were separated, it wouldn't hurt him.

He knew now that he had been wrong.

As the chess game continued, Spock noticed Yeoman Rand watching them. Her blue eyes seemed trained on the Captain's back, but Kirk was blissfully unaware of her scrutiny. A hot flash of anger flared up in Spock's soul as he watched her watching his Captain. When her eyes met his, she gave a little jump of fright and moved to another part of the table where she couldn't see Spock or the Captain.

Spock frowned, but could not help feeling pleased at the same time. The anger had been unsettling, more concentrated than he could remember feeling before. But he had accomplished what he wanted: the yeoman had at last stopped watching them.

Spock returned his attention to the chess game, but his mind was elsewhere. Last night, on Faryk, he had sat awake to protect his Captain from the predators in the darkness. Now he found himself keeping Rand at bay from across the room. He blinked a few times to clear his head, and tried to focus on the chess game, which he was currently losing.

But even as he resolved to let the Captain fight his own battles from now on, he knew that it would not happen. He knew, in that deep secret place where mind met soul, that it would be impossible for him to do so. Jim meant more to him than any Human or Vulcan that he had ever known.

It was not logical, but it was true.


	3. Chapter 3

_Instinct: (noun) 1- natural, unlearned, predictable response to stimuli. 2- a primal force or drive, as fear, love, or anger._

_The Song of Solomon, Chapter 8, verse 6: Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame._

* * *

"Well done, gentlemen," Admiral Komack said. Kirk gave Spock a quick grin before the Admiral turned around. They had been working like mad for the last three days to get the  _Enterprise_  up to top form. "I don't think I have ever seen the  _Enterprise_ in such good condition," Komack continued.

"Well I'm glad you're pleased," Kirk said with a smile.

Spock merely nodded, silently gauging the distance between Kirk and Admiral Komack's bodies. 1 foot, 10.34 inches was his best guess. They were in the transporter room. Komack, having just inspected the  _Enterprise_ , was preparing to beam down to Argelius.

"I will see you in a few hours for Karin's inauguration. I hope you are ready to enjoy yourselves." The Admiral turned and stepped onto the transporter pad. "Energize." Kirk gave him a little wave as he dematerialized.

Once he was sufficiently gone, Spock turned to Kirk. "I assume, Jim, that I am expected to accompany you, not only to the inauguration and the fancy dinner, but also to the celebrations thereafter?"

"I would enjoy your company, yes," Kirk said. "But I understand if you don't want to come to the party. That's not really your 'thing,' after all."

"Nevertheless, if you desire my company, I shall of course provide it," Spock said simply. He did not give himself time to consider the alternative. Something lurked in the shadowy corners of his mind, something he did  _not_  want to face. Leaving Kirk alone at this point was not an option.

Kirk smiled; his first genuine smile since Admiral Komack had come on board. Kirk had never quite forgiven him from forbidding them from going to Vulcan during Spock's  _pon farr._  Of course, they had gone to Vulcan anyway, but it was the fact that he had not given a damn about Spock that bugged him the most.

* * *

Several hours later, they were seated to dine with Karin and her family. Karin, who had just become the fifth female Prefect of Argelius, had sent them personalized invitations to this meal and, although Spock did not want to be there, it would have been impolite to refuse.

"Please, sit," she said with a wide smile. She lowered herself gracefully into her seat at the head of the long table. Directly on her right sat her daughter Mari. Next to Mari was Kirk, and next to Kirk was Spock. Across from them sat Admiral Komack and other Starfleet officials. The rest of the table was strewn with officials and presidents of several planets nearby. The crew of the  _Enterprise_ , as well as other guests, were dining in several larger rooms nearby.

Spock sat down slowly, surveying the table in front of them. None of this food had been replicated; it was all real and fresh. He was pleased to see that, in spite of meat being the main dish, there were many types of fruits and vegetables to choose from. To his left, Kirk was pouring a glass of wine for Mari. When he handed her the goblet, their fingers brushed. Spock pretended not to notice.

After waiting patiently for the others to serve themselves, Spock pulled a bowl of salad towards himself. Scooping a medium-sized portion onto his plate, he picked up his knife and fork and began to eat. Focusing his eyes on his food, he let his hearing keep him aware of his surroundings. Karin and Admiral Komack were discussing the trade of certain textiles from Earth to Argelius, and the dignitaries down the table were enjoying a heated argument over whether or not Vulcan wine was as good as everyone said. Every once in a while, one of them would look in Spock's direction as if to ask his opinion, but something always made them turn away.

Kirk and Mari were talking animatedly as they ate. Spock didn't have to look at them to know that Kirk was wearing a very familiar grin. Every inflection in Kirk's voice spoke of his obvious infatuation with this Argelian woman. Spock's vision narrowed to include only his plate of food, reaching out with his other senses. Nothing went unnoticed. Kirk had just asked Mari to pass him the salt. Her fingers brushed his. Spock heard the rustle of her shirt as Kirk's fingers lightly touched her shoulder. Somewhere after the third course had been served, Kirk shifted in his chair, scooting it closer to Mari. Scooting it further from Spock. The floor vibrated ever so slightly as Kirk's chair moved across it. The sound rose up in Spock's ears, drowning out every other noise. What had been 4.32 inches was now 8.78 inches, and what had been 5.28 between Kirk and Mari was now 0.82 of an inch.

Spock closed his eyes, teeth clenched. The cords of muscle in his neck stood out harshly as he breathed slowly in and out through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. When he opened his eyes again, there was a tightness about them that did not fade. Everything around him looked unusually sharp and vivid. The paintings on the opposite wall were as clear and focused as the grains of salt spilled near Jim's elbow. Every sound was louder in his ears. And yet, if anyone had looked at that moment, they would have seen the Vulcan sitting as still as a statue, his face blank, looking like he had not a care in the world.

After two more, eternally long courses, Karin rose to her feet.

"I welcome you all to join me in the ballroom for a celebration!" she said gleefully. Everyone stood up and stretched. Some of the less dignified massaged their full bellies. Spock stood slowly, habitually straightening his shirt. He lagged behind the mass exodus to the ballroom, watching. When he did get through the door, he spotted Kirk introducing Mari to Doctor McCoy. As he walked over to join them, McCoy's eyes met his over Kirk's head.

"My  _God_ , Spock. What's wrong with you?" McCoy brushed past Kirk, pulling his medical scanner out of his pocket. He waved it in front of Spock's face for a moment, eyebrows knit together in a scowl. Spock's hand shot out and closed over the doctor's wrist. Through the brief skin-to-skin contact, he poured all of his anger.  _Do not touch me_. He let go after half a second, but it was enough. McCoy leapt back, staring at Spock with a shocked expression.

"There is nothing wrong with me, doctor," he said.

"If you say so," McCoy grumbled.

As the doctor turned back to Kirk and Mari, Spock noticed Kirk watching him. His green dress shirt made the green flecks in his eyes stand out like emeralds. His expression said, "Are you okay?" Spock composed his face into a cool mask.  _He cannot know_. He nodded once and turned away, finding an empty chair in the corner. Almost as soon as he was gone, Yeoman Rand walked up to Kirk and asked him to dance. Graciously, he complied, leaving Mari to dance with McCoy. Spock leaned back into his chair, content for the moment to merely observe the dancing couples. However, he did find it noteworthy that Kirk kept Rand at arm's length, despite the girl's obvious desire to be close to him.

In a far corner, Sulu and Chekov appeared to be having a contest to see who could ingest the most alcohol and remain in a standing position. Spock watched them for a while, almost amused by their foolish behavior. He noticed that, the more intoxicated they became, the closer they stood, even to the point where Sulu slung his arm over Chekov's shoulder. Suddenly feeling extremely intrusive, Spock looked away.

A few moments later, Spock spotted Kirk and Mari dancing quite near his secluded corner. He straightened in his chair, his muscles tensing. Kirk gave him a small wave as they sailed by. Spock nodded minutely in return. Mari was pressed up against Kirk's body, his hand splayed over her back. She gave a low, attractive giggle as Kirk whispered something into her ear. Spock felt a wave of disgust course through him. The Captain should not be acting in this manner. He was one of the most distinguished Captains in Starfleet, yet he had managed (albeit illogically) to make a name for himself as a famous ladies' man. While Spock knew that this was not the case, he did not see what purpose was served in presenting himself in this manner.

The only alternative explanation was that Kirk actually did have feelings for the Argelian woman. Spock refused to consider the possibility of such a scenario.

"Mr. Spock?" said a voice. Spock looked up. Lieutenant Uhura was standing in front of him, looking radiant in her dress uniform.

"Evening, Lieutenant," Spock said with a polite nod. Uhura smiled.

"You look so lonely over here by yourself. Will you do me the honor of a dance?" She extended one slender hand to him.

"Of course," he said, rising to his feet. He placed one hand on her waist and the other in hers, taking every precaution to keep his mental barriers intact. They moved in slow circles away from his chair. Uhura understood that Spock was not in a talkative mood, so she simply hummed along to the song as they danced. Spock, not wanting to be impolite tried to keep his eyes away from Kirk and Mari.

Sometimes, however, looking at them was unavoidable. Such was the case when their dancing carried them quite close to the Captain and his partner. Uhura reached out and tapped Kirk's shoulder, giving him a winning smile as they passed. Kirk grinned back at her, and then looked at Spock. As Spock looked back at him, the world softened for one brief moment. Spock felt his body relax, the tension draining out of him. Jim smiled, a genuine, happy smile as he waltzed by in Mari's arms.

Once they were gone, the sharp set back in. Sounds magnified until they were almost too loud to bear, and everything he looked at had cutting edges. Spock settled his eyes on Uhura's face, absorbing the soft lines of her expression, trying to keep the razor blades at bay. She glanced up at him and smiled, but didn't say anything. When the song was over, she walked with him back to his chair. He sat down, and she placed both hands on his shoulders. For one odd moment, Spock thought she was going to kiss him. However, she merely looked at him with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Spock knew that she truly cared. Wordlessly, he shook his head, dropping his gaze. Uhura sighed. "I hope you feel better."

"As do I," Spock replied. Uhura patted him on the shoulder kindly before walking away. He watched her go up to Admiral Komack and ask him to dance. Then he scanned over the crowd until he spotted Kirk and Mari. He tried to empty his thoughts and let his mind go blank as he watched them. Nevertheless, when the dance ended an hour and eighteen minutes later, he could recite from memory every move the pair had made.

The  _Enterprise_  crew met up in the street outside. Spock walked up cautiously, his eyes on the Captain. The men were loudly discussing their plans for the night. The women were huddled nearby, exchanging whispers and giggling delightedly.

"I think I'll start out at that place across town," McCoy was saying. "You know the one, Jim, where – "

"Yes, Bones, I know," Jim said. He had his arm around Mari's waist. "But I won't be joining you. I have…plans." He grinned, tightening his grip on Mari's waist. An argument sprang, fully formed, into Spock's mind and he skirted the knot of people, intent on Kirk.

"Captain," he said quietly. Kirk turned, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "May I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Mr. Spock," Jim said. He disentangled himself from Mari and followed Spock down the street. When they were out of earshot of the Humans, Spock stopped and looked at him.

"I apologize for doubting your judgment, Jim," he began, "but I must question the wisdom in engaging in such a relationship with the Prefect's only daughter."

"I thought about that," Jim admitted. "And… I understand your concern. On any other planet I wouldn't consider it, but this is _Argelius_  we're talking about."

"Nevertheless, you do not want to cause trouble," Spock said insistently.

"There won't  _be_  trouble, Spock. I'm leaving in the morning and she knows that. But she wants it too, so…" He trailed off with a shrug.

" _Jim_ ," Spock said, his tone exasperated.

" _Spock_ ," Jim countered in an identical voice. "Maybe you should go find a girl and spend tonight on the ground. Might do you some good." He clapped Spock on the shoulder and walked away.

"Yes, Jim, it might," Spock whispered. "But I will not."

Jim slid his arm around Mari's waist and whispered in her ear. Spock watched them walk away, their footsteps echoing in his ears. Behind the echo he could hear his heart racing. Kirk and Mari disappeared around the far corner of the street and something inside Spock snapped.

Anger filled him, hot and corrosive, and it made him furious because it scared him. His heartbeat roared in his ears and his vision tunneled, pinpointing the exact spot where Kirk and Mari had rounded the corner. His muscles coiled, ready to spring. In his mind's eye, he could see Kirk kissing Mari's neck in a darkened alleyway. His hands curled into fists as a memory crossed his mind. It was not his memory, it was older than time remembered, from before Surak had arisen to bring peace to the Vulcan people. The memory of heat, and harsh winds, and blood triggered in Spock the ancient desire to stake his claim, to fight to the death for what was rightfully his.

Who was this Argelian woman-child, to sink her claws into  _his_  Captain? How  _dare_  she lay her hands on him, and with such clear intentions. She had done  _nothing_  to deserve him, nothing to prove how much he was worth to her, whereas Spock had repeatedly cast aside his own safety to protect Jim Kirk.

Every cell in his body screamed to go after them, to rip the girl from Jim's embrace and challenge her to fight for him. In a distant corner of his mind, a voice spoke up that sounded remarkably like his father.  _"Spock. Calm yourself. It would not be wise to challenge this young woman. She will not survive such an encounter. Do not shed innocent blood."_  Spock leaned back on his heels, his body relaxing from the offensive position that he hadn't realized he held. In this brief moment of calm, this eye of the proverbial storm, he remembered Kirk asking him to accompany him to the celebrations, and the darkness that lurked in the back of his mind, which was why he'd said yes.

 _This_  was what had been lurking there, this savage, primal jealousy and possessive anger. He could feel a low growl building in his chest and knew it was only a matter of time before his control shattered completely. Blood burning in his veins, he stood as still as stone for a solid minute, watching his crewmates headed off to enjoy themselves. And then he did the only thing he could do to protect the innocent Mari, to protect Jim, and to protect himself.

 _He fled_.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chaos: 1) extreme confusion or disorder. 2) an abyss; chasm_

_Conflict: 1) emotional disturbance resulting from a clash of opposing impulses or from an inability to reconcile impulses with realistic or moral considerations._

* * *

Silence.  _Absolute_  silence.  _Finally_.

The ship was entirely deserted, save for Mr. Scott, who was spending his time off exactly as he liked: flitting around the Engineering Deck, drinking Scotch, and reading his technical journals.

Spock made his way silently to Deck 5, squinting his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting. Upon reaching his quarters, he locked the door behind him and turned the lights as low as the settings would allow. The red draperies warmed and softened the light, and the color reminded him of the red mountains of his home planet. He stripped out of his dress uniform and pulled on a loose-fitting robe. Lighting the incense on his wall mount, he folded himself into a kneeling position and closed his eyes. He drew himself inward, using his seventh sense to connect to the All, drawing strength from the Universe.

The planes of his  _katra_  spread out around him, thoughts connected by threads like a spider web. He held his breath for a moment, shocked by the chaotic state in which he found himself. His usually ordered thoughts, while always tainted by emotions, were completely overrun by the scarlet weed of Human anger. For sixty seconds, he held his breath and watched the red anger threatening to overwhelm every logical thought in his mind. Then he breathed slowly out through his nose, watching the anger shrivel and wilt in the forced calm. It backed down, retreated, and was quiet, but refused to die.

In the stillness, Spock felt a gentle pull, like a small child tugging at his sleeve. He followed it, reaching out with his mind to discover the source. As he drew nearer, he felt himself growing restless, the anger stirring, accompanied by a dark echo of jealousy. Tendrils of this blackness were curling around his carefully built mental barriers, threatening to rip them down. The pull intensified, and Spock followed it faster, less cautiously.

His mind's eye opened onto a darkened room, lit by what sounded like a fireplace, crackling merrily behind him. He recognized the woman before him. It was Mari. She was holding out a glass filled with what appeared to be Saurian brandy. And the hand that reached for the glass was  _Jim's_.

Spock's eyes flew open, taking a moment to focus on his surroundings. He was lying flat on his back, with no knowledge of how he had gotten there. He felt someone else's anticipation resonating within his body, exciting his system. His heartbeat raced with  _Jim's_  anticipation. He had seen Jim's thoughts.  _How?_  Such a strong connection should only have been possible through a deep mind-meld. Through miles of empty space, even as concentrated as he had been, he should not have heard Jim's thoughts so clearly. He should not have heard them at all. He sat back up, looking at the floor, waiting for the alien excitement to fade. When his head was clear and his body had calmed, he closed his eyes again, reaching out cautiously this time.

Again he felt the same elusive pull, but this time there was a flavor attached to it, like a bottle that has run over. The flavor was that same excitement that belonged to Jim. As Spock followed the pull for a second time, he felt the black jealousy rising to overpower him. He called upon every ounce of training he possessed and pushed it back. He had realized that the anger had camouflaged the truth of what was really lurking in the corner of his mind. With the anger and jealousy eradicated, other thoughts and emotions began to make themselves known.

And then he saw it, or rather, felt it. Or perhaps he saw and felt it at the same instant. Regardless of how he discovered it, there it was.

A bond.

At least, the beginnings of one. It was no where near as substantial as the bond he had shared for most of his life with T'Pring, or the bond he knew that his parents shared. Both of those bonds, he knew, had looked like thousands of golden threads, bound together, some running from one party, some from the other.

This wasn't a bond so much as a link, a tie, a single thread of spun glass connecting his mind to the mind of Jim Kirk. It was fragile and, like spun glass, would leave behind a thousand miniscule cutting shards if it was broken. But above all this, it was intensely beautiful. It was a light, pure gold in color, and where it joined his mind the golden color spread, claiming everything it touched, threatening to bathe his entire  _katra_  in pure light. Spock took several minutes to simply admire it, ignoring for the moment the two separate halves of himself, each clamoring to be heard. In all his years, he had never seen anything quite so simple, so pure. The deepest part him cried to keep it, to nurture it, to not only let it grow, but  _flourish_.

It was then that his Human half rose up in an ice-blue tidal wave of pure fear. He bowed beneath it, struck down by the sheer strength of his Human emotion. What was he to do? He could not admit to Jim that they were bonded –

Why not? His Vulcan logic came to his rescue, driving back the fear with confidence. Homosexual marriages had been legalized hundreds of years ago, and since a bond was equal to a marriage, he would be breaking no rules by admitting to its existence.

No, perhaps not. However, he knew that any punishment he might suffer would be easier to bear than the pain of rejection. It had been hard enough to sever his bond with T'Pring, and that had been a mutual choice. The thought of being forced to sever _this_  bond, with someone for whom he truly cared, made him cringe.

Breaking the bond, then, was out of the question. His Human half shied away from the pain of such an act, and his Vulcan half rebelled against the inherent wrongness of destroying an young bond. For the first time in his life, Spock felt like one whole person instead of two halves. Every part of his being, mind, body, and soul, was bent on keeping the bond intact.

This did not, however, answer the question of what to do about the bond. Should he or should he not admit its existence to Jim? Yes, that was the respectful thing to do, the logical thing to do, as Jim was now an integral part of this equation. But the Human instinct for self-preservation was too great. He didn't  _want_  to keep the truth from Jim, but the thought of being rejected by his t'hy'la was too excruciating to contemplate.

On the other hand, when he had discovered the bond, there had been one brilliant moment of clarity. He had felt welcome there. He had felt free and invincible. He had seen the future. Or rather, the possibility of a future; a future with his t'hy'la.

There was that word again… He paused, slightly disconcerted by the ease with which that word had sprang to his mind. He had always considered Jim a friend, his closest friend, and t'hy'la was the closest word to the Standard "friend." It did not  _feel_  like merely "friend," though. It felt closer, more intimate. More  _permanent_. Was Jim his t'hy'la? The answer was a great and obvious yes. The word friend did not go deep enough anymore.

A sharp jolt of intense pleasure lanced through him from across the bond, distracting him from organizing his thoughts. Spock felt anger flare up within him and put up a temporary shield to protect himself.

No, friend did not convey how he felt, not anymore. In his mind's eye, he could see how he felt about Jim. Genuine respect and professional admiration stood quietly, side by side, black and white, at neat angles to each other. That was to be expected. Wrapped around this logical respect where powerful emotions, slashes of living color twining themselves around. The cool, calming colors of happiness and friendship were there, flourishing, but that was not all. Young, strong tendrils of what looked suspiciously like real love had begun to grow  _out_ of the others.

But did he love Jim? Again, the answer was yes. He loved him like a brother. A nudge from the corner of his mind where the bond was hiding told him that he was wrong. He loved Jim  _more_  than a brother. The love that was growing now was only so young because it had been forbidden to grow. It would not be ignored any longer.

The true question now was  _how_  was the bond made?

Yes, Vulcan-Human connections were possible; Spock's parents were a prime example of that. They had been bonded by a member of the Vulcan High Priesthood, along with every other bonded pair that Spock knew of. The last time he had seen any member of the priesthood was several months ago, after his  _pon farr_. Unless T'Pau had bonded he and Jim without his knowledge – but that was impossible. A bond required physical contact, not only between the bond-mates but with the bonder as well. This bond, then had formed  _of its own accord_.

_When?_

Spock threw himself backwards, somersaulting through his memories of the last several months. Because he had already been thinking about it, he stopped on Vulcan, during his  _pon farr_. He remembered the exquisite pain of his  _plak tow_ , and how suddenly it had vanished, as though the flames had been doused in glacial waters. He remembered saying his farewells to T'Pau, who had told him, "I grieve with thee." He remembered pausing outside the sickbay, bowed by the pain of losing Jim, and the pain of a newly severed bond. And then there stood Jim, tired and weak, but smiling and impossibly  _alive_. Spock had not been able to restrain the smile that broke across his face at the sight of Jim standing there, grinning. In that instant, all the pain had evaporated. Jim was alive, and even the broken bond did not ache.

 _Fascinating_. The broken bond hand pained him only for a moment, until he learned that Jim was alive. If his  _katra_  had been searching for a companion, it could have theoretically sent out a link to the person closest to him. Not closest physically, but closest emotionally. When Spock had felt that surge of happiness, it may have been that his  _katra_  had surged forward too, sending out a link in order to heal itself.

Quickly, Spock scanned through the few weeks following his  _pon farr_. His body had been healing itself from the stresses of that week, but his mind had been quiet, painless. Looking back, the absence of the pain was oddly conspicuous, but he had thought nothing of it at the time.

The bond must have started out so small that he did not notice it. It was merely one miniscule branch, enhancing no sensations, but just existing. Over several months it had grown, despite being ignored and invisible. Spock suspected that his recent emotional upheaval was caused by the bond's growth and, in turn, caused the bond to strengthen.

As Spock prepared to end his meditation, one glaring question remained unanswered:  _what do I tell Jim?_ Cautiously, he removed the shield from the bond. All was quiet. He pushed through the bond, trying to sense how Jim was feeling. He moved sluggishly through the warm afterglow of lovemaking, looking for a trace of himself in Jim's thoughts. The Human seemed to be falling asleep. A feather of regret brushed Spock's mind.

 _I should apologize to Spock_.

Spock backed out of Jim's mind.  _No, I should not tell Jim anything._  Immediately, his mind hurled at him every memory of Jim that he had. Jim antagonizing him in the transporter room to save him from the spores' influence; Jim promising to help him during his  _pon farr_ ; Jim's relieved smile after the Psi 2000 fiasco; Jim comforting him after his mind meld with Nomad.

He knew what he was trying to tell himself. He was only one half of a complete person now. If breaking the bond was not an option, then he  _needed_  Jim. He slowly began to open his eyes. No, he would not tell Jim about the bond  _yet_. Someday, yes, but not now.

For now, he would do nothing; at least, nothing active. Of course, distancing himself from Jim was not a pleasant option, and he would try not to do that. If he did, Jim would certainly realize that something was going on. But neither would he be annoyingly protective. He would simply continue in his usual way.

However, if something did change, and if the bond was compromised, he  _would_ fight for it.


	5. Chapter 5

_Suspension: (noun): 1) the continuing of one or more tunes of one chord into a following chord while the other chords are changed, so that a dissonance is created._

_Reprieve: (noun): 1) postponement of penalty, esp., that of death; 2) temporary relief or escape, as from trouble or pain._

* * *

Spock awoke to his computer whistling at him.

"Transporter room to Mr. Spock," it squawked in Scotty's voice. Spock heaved himself off of his mattress and pressed the communicator button.

"Spock here."

"Good mornin', sir. I'm about to beam up the crew. Dr. McCoy requested you make up a hangover remedy."

"I most certainly will. Do you also require said remedy?"

Scotty scoffed. "I'd hafta drink a lot more than I did to give  _meself_  a hangover." The pride in his voice was evident even over the communicator.

"Very well, Mr. Scott. Send all 'hungover' crew members to sickbay for the remedy. Spock out."

Spock discarded his sleeping robe for a fresh uniform and headed quickly to the sickbay. After commissioning the computer to replicate some hangover medecine, he measured it out into individual doses. Several yeomen stumbled in, squinting through half-closed eyes. He handed the first his tiny cup of medicine. The yeoman sniffed it gingerly.

"What is this?" he said, pulling a face.

"Doctor McCoy's sovereign remedy for a hangover," Spock said. "I believe it consists of acidophilus, apples, Aspirin, bananas, caffeine, feverfew, ginger, peppermint, water, and vitamin C."

The yeoman wrinkled his nose and gulped it down. "Bleh," he said. Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

After seeing one hundred seventy-three junior officers through sickbay, Spock had a moment to sit down. Through the bond, he felt the dull pounding of a headache, and was grateful that he had not imbibed any alcohol. He had heard of alcohol eliciting very strong reactions in other half-Vulcans (although most of them were Romulan-Vulcan hybrids), and had no desire to risk that loss of control. The door swished open and he looked up.

Kirk and Dr. McCoy walked in. McCoy tripped. Kirk had a hand splayed across his forehead, but he was grinning in a cat-that-ate-the-canary sort of way. Spock rose, handing each of them a dose of the remedy. McCoy tossed his back without so much as a blink.

"I trust that you had an enjoyable night?" Spock asked.

"Of course we did," McCoy said defensively. "You missed out, Spock." Spock looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "And…thanks for taking care of this." He raised his empty cup.

"You are most welcome, doctor. A starship cannot function if its crew is inebriated." Spock looked over at the Captain. Jim was sitting silently in the chair that Spock had just vacated, taking his medicine in tiny sips. Spock was fully aware of how disgusted he was by it, but knew that it would be easier if he swallowed it all at once. "Jim," he said quietly. Jim looked up. "It will be easier if you swallow it all at once."

Jim grimaced. "And you couldn't have made it taste any better?"

"I simply followed Doctor McCoy's instructions," Spock said innocently, trying to ignore the sting of Jim's criticism, as misdirected as it was.

"Oh," Jim said, looking over at the doctor. "And  _you_  couldn't have made it taste any better?"

"You know the rules, Jim. Medicine is not supposed to taste good," McCoy grumbled, heading into his quarters. Jim shrugged, continuing to sip the concoction. "And for a starship captain, you're being a bloody coward." Jim glared at his retreating back and gulped down the rest of his remedy.

"How was your night, Mr. Spock?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Quiet."

"Do anything interesting?"

Spock waited a moment before answering. "I took advantage of the silence for several uninterrupted hours of meditation."

"I bet you enjoyed that," Jim said.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry about last night, by the way," Jim said after a moment.

"What are you sorry for?" Spock asked. "You did nothing wrong."

"I wasn't very kind to you. When I left you… standing there, you looked so…  _empty_ "

Spock bit back a sarcastic laugh. If only Jim knew how  _not_ empty he had been… A wistful sigh echoed through the bond. Spock's laughter rolled into a protective crouch as Kirk's thoughts resonated faintly through his mind. Jim was wishing he had been able to show Mari around the  _Enterprise_  before leaving orbit, but she said her mother would have forbidden it. Besides—

"We should leave orbit as soon as possible, Captain. Our rendezvous with the Klingons and Romulans in the neutral zone is in six days, and it will take us nearly that long to get there." Silently, Spock sent anonymous focusing thoughts through the bond. They were not strong enough for Kirk to trace, just enough to redirect his thoughts. It would not do to have the Captain distracted during such a potentially dangerous mission.

"Yes, we should," Kirk said, slapping the arm of his chair and standing up. "I'm going to go change and I'll meet you on the bridge." He strode from the sickbay. Spock watched him go. As a precaution, he built a careful shield on his side of the bond, so that his thoughts did not intrude into Jim's mind. However, the shield was fragile enough that Jim could break it if concentrated enough. If he wanted to.

* * *

A few days later, on the bridge, Spock was analyzing his findings from Faryk on the science station computer. So far, the results had been fascinating. Where Earth life forms had Carbon 12, Farykkian life forms had an element with 123 protons that allowed for extremely complex chains of molecules. As such, the Farykkians' bodies were denser, stronger, and had much higher metabolic rates than any other humanoids on record. That same element (which Spock was debating calling  _farykkanium_ ) provided the backbone for all of the plant and animal life, making the food more nutritious and able to sustain such a population of humanoids.

"Enjoying yourself, Spock?" Kirk asked.

Spock stopped. Yes, he  _was_  quite enjoying himself but how - ah. The thin shield he had erected was melting away. Jim could doubtlessly sense Spock's excitement through the bond he had no knowledge of.

"Yes, Captain," Spock said, "I am. The new elements I picked up on Faryk are quite fascinating."

"You'll have to tell me more about them, when the shift is over and I can concentrate." Even though they were days from the neutral zone, Kirk was anxious. He disliked dealing with Klingons and Romulans as much as the next person, but it was his crew's anxiety that ate at him the most.

"Of course, Captain. Perhaps it will help to take your mind off of the coming mission."

"I hope so," Kirk said.

"There is no need to be anxious," Spock said, quieter this time. "The crew will be remaining aboard the ship. The only two in danger will be you and I."

Kirk shot him a brief tender smile and Spock felt the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly upward.

The moment was disrupted when Yeoman Rand hustled through the doors and over to Kirk's chair.

"What is it, Yeoman?" Kirk said, spinning in his chair to face her. He sounded annoyed.

"I don't know," she said, almost whining. "It always makes me nervous when we go near the Klingons. I don't want anyone to get hurt." By the inflections in her voice, and the way she slanted her eyes at him, it was obvious that she was only referring to the Captain's safety.

Kirk took a breath, his eyebrows raised, apparently trying to figure out what to say to her. Spock stood up.

"You need not worry about that, Yeoman," he said coldly. "The meeting with the Klingon and Romulan ambassadors will be simply that: us and the ambassadors. We will be perfectly safe."

Rand merely looked at him, her eyes wide. He saw reflected in them the same apprehension with which she had looked at him during the Vitronic-B game the week before. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh," she said, "okay then. Still, be safe." She whirled around and darted back into the turbolift.

Kirk turned to face him. Spock had the distinct impression that if Kirk could raise just one of his eyebrows, he would have done so.

"Interrupting, Mr. Spock? I could have answered the question just as well as you," he said lightly, but also very firmly.

"I am sorry for interrupting, Captain," Spock said. Then, without another word, he turned back to his computer.

That night, Spock found himself wandering the halls of the  _Enterprise_ , unable to sleep. He had spent the greater part of an hour building a new wall against the bond, and it was silent now. As desperately curious as he was about the Captain's thoughts, he would not remove the shield. The bond had been strengthening over the past few days, and he could no longer be sure that Jim would not realize that it was there.

He rounded a corner and nearly walked into – Jim! The human half of his mind supplied the correct phrase, "Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear." The Captain had his hands up between their bodies, barely touching Spock's chest.

"Well, hello, Mr. Spock," he said, taking a step backward. Spock could feel every cell in his body reaching out for Jim, straining themselves to be closer. He took a moment to concentrate, individually harnessing and reigning in every part of himself. He refused to lose control.

"Good evening, Captain," he said. His eyes flickered once over Kirk's form. The Captain was still fully clothed, and the muscles near his neck and around his eyes were tight. Concern welled up inside him, fast and complete, and he could not hold it back. "Could you not sleep?" he asked.

Jim smiled. "Don't worry about it, Spock. Just one of those off days. What about you?"

"I, too, found it…difficult to relax," Spock admitted.

"Well, how about joining me in the cafeteria for…some hot chocolate or something?"

"I do not particularly feel like eating or drinking at the moment," Spock said truthfully.

"Neither do I," Kirk said, "But Bones threatened to force feed me baby food unless I ate something."

Spock's eyebrows knit together in a worried line as they walked down the corridor. "Have you not been eating, Jim?"

Jim thought about that for a moment. "No, I guess not. I just haven't been hungry lately."

Spock glanced down at Kirk's hands, swinging loosely by his sides. His fingers were trembling. Before Spock could be aware of what he was doing, he reached for the Human's hand. Just before their hands touched, he stopped and pulled his hand back, redirecting his gaze and clasping his hands behind his back.

"You should eat something," he said.

"So should you," Kirk shot back. Spock frowned, just a minute change in the set of his mouth.

"Tea and hot chocolate, then?" he said after a moment.

Kirk laughed. "Deal," he said. Spock was relieved that Kirk had not extended his hand for a handshake, as was the custom among humans. He wasn't sure he could have withstood such physical contact at the moment.

They reached the cafeteria and went inside. Spock was slightly disconcerted by the darkness. He'd never had a reason to visit the cafeteria in the middle of the night before.

"Lights," Kirk said. The computer seemed to understand that it was nighttime and kept the lights lower than usual. They must have been programmed to do so…

"How often do you indulge in the so-called 'midnight snack,' Jim?" Spock asked.

"Not often," Kirk replied. "Bones does a lot, though. I think he has trouble sleeping."

"The hell I do."

Kirk and Spock turned towards the door, identical expressions of surprise on both their faces. Dr. McCoy had just come in and stopped a few inches inside the door.

"Hello, Bones!" Kirk said cheerfully.

"What are you doing here?" McCoy asked suspiciously.

"Having hot chocolate." Jim held up his cup. "Want some?"

"Don't mind if I do," he said, heading over to the replicator. "What about you, Spock? Couldn't you sleep either?"

Spock had no wish for the doctor to pry into his personal affairs. "What gives you that idea, doctor?" he asked innocently.

"Spock. It's three in the morning. 'Oh-three-hundred' for you military types. If you  _could_  sleep, you wouldn't be here."

"How many times must I tell you, doctor," Spock began defensively, "my metabolic rate is much –"

"I know all about your ridiculous, green-blooded physiology. Now tell me honestly, when was the last full meal you ate?"

Spock did not want to lie, but the truthful answer to McCoy's question was too close to the situation to answer truthfully. "I had a bowl of soup yesterday," he said. That was at least partly true. He had made a bowl of plomeek broth for breakfast, but had not had the stomach to finish it.

"Eat," McCoy commanded, pointing to the replicator. "Or I'll force feed you baby food, too."

Spock raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but had no desire to test the doctor's threat. He picked up a fruit card and slid it into the replicator without looking at it. When the replicator dinged, he looked into it. A tall glass of apple juice was in there, dripping with condensation. Spock's stomach gave an angry growl as he looked at it. He picked it up and turned back to face McCoy. Raising his glass, he downed all of the juice in one breath. When he set the glass down, McCoy was grinning at him.

"There you go, Spock," he said. Spock nodded once and made to leave the cafeteria. He could feel his temper rising again and had no wish to take it out on the doctor, especially not with the Captain present. "Oh, and see me in sickbay tomorrow morning."

Spock stopped. After a moment, he nodded once and went out.

* * *

McCoy sat alone in his office. He had just finished examining Spock, and while nothing was technically wrong with the Vulcan, something was nagging at the back of his mind that he couldn't put his finger on. He reached for his computer.

"Sickbay to Captain Kirk," he said.

"Kirk here."

"I need you to come down to sickbay, Jim. I need to…talk to you."

"I'll be right there." Spock looked up curiously from his computer as the Captain left the bridge.

Kirk strode into sickbay, his eyes troubled. "Is something wrong with Spock?" he asked.

"No, not exactly. At least, nothing I can reasonably say. But he seems…stressed? No, that's not the right word. I don't know what is, but something about him is off. He wasn't sleeping, hasn't eaten for days as far as I can tell. At least, not since… five days ago."

"Five days ago, wasn't that… Argelius?" Kirk asked. Bones nodded. "Hmmm," Kirk said thoughtfully. A wave of guilt crashed through him, remembering Mari and how he had been blatantly disrespectful to Spock in favor of her.  _But that can't be why…_

Still, as unreasonable as such a conclusion was, it stuck with him. Unless there was some other reason, and Kirk couldn't think of anything at the moment, Spock's poor health was his fault. Silently, Kirk vowed to fix the problem, whatever it was. No one hurt his First Officer and got away with it.

Not even himself.


	6. Chapter 6

_Burst- verb: 1) to come apart suddenly and violently, as from internal pressure; fly into pieces; break out or open; explode._

_Snap- verb: 1) to give way suddenly under strain, as nerves, resistance, etc._

_Fall- verb: 1) to pass into a specific condition, ie: to fall in love, to fall ill, etc. –noun: 1) a capture; overthrow; ruin._

* * *

Gnawing. Eating. Consuming. Destroying.

The fear would ruin him. Of this he was certain. It moved through him, eating at everything it touched. It even consumed the burning, feverish heat of what he knew now to be another  _pon farr_.

He did not have time to wonder about that as he hurried through the crowded ship. His hands were bruised and bloody, but if the blood was his or the Romulan's, he did not know.

He could feel the stares of his crewmembers as he ran through the corridors to sickbay. Their collective fear pressed on his mind, and he tried to compose his features into something less than the insanity that dominated his expression. But their fear mirrored his own and he ran faster.

* * *

Kirk and Spock moved through a security checkpoint, the sensors making sure that they possessed no weaponry of any kind. The guard nodded them forward. They headed down the empty hallway.

When they arrived at the designated room, Kirk went in first. Inside were one Klingon and one Romulan, standing against opposite walls.

"Evening, gentlemen," Kirk said, sitting down at the head of the table. "Please, sit down."

The Klingon and Romulan ambassadors glared at him, and then at each other, before sitting down at opposite ends of the table.

"Come now," Kirk said. "We're here to negotiate peace." Spock did not need the bond to tell him that Kirk was irritated. The Captain's false smile and overly calm voice radiated his desire to have this over with. Spock sat down beside him, keeping a wary eye on the aliens. His ears strained for any sound.

They were meeting in a briefing room in a Star Base on the edge of the Neutral Zone. This entire wing of the star base had been sealed off, so that Kirk, Spock, and the Klingon and Romulan ambassadors could work in peace. This was as much to keep the _Enterprise_ 's security officers out of the way as it was to keep the Klingon and Romulan officers away. The Klingons and Romulans would not negotiate if they felt they were not trusted.

"Now, as you know, the 'neutral' zone is  _not_  neutral space," Kirk began. "If a Federation starship so much as enters the neutral zone, either Klingon or Romulan, it gets blown to bits. The President proposes to rule that Klingons can patrol the Neutral Zone closest to their empire, that the Romulans can patrol the space closest to  _their_  empire, and Starfleet will patrol the space closest to Federation territory, and no one gets blown to bits unless they actually  _intrude_  upon foreign space."

The Klingon and the Romulan looked at each other.

"And what is to keep us obeying this rule?" the Romulan asked.

"For lack of a better word, we'll blow you to bits, too," Kirk bluntly. "The patrol won't be your ordinary Starfleet officers. These will be more like the armed forces of Old Earth, trained in combat and—"

A distant sound reached Spock's ears. Footsteps. The alien ambassadors exchanged a glance. This glance was not hostile. It was conspiratorial. Kirk did not pause, having missed the exchange as he glanced down at his PADD. Spock analyzed the noise.

The tread was too light to be a Klingon, but not deliberate enough to be a Human. A Romulan, then?

What was a Romulan doing in this sealed-off area? The footsteps drew closer, and the aliens exchanged another glance. Spock watched them closely. Their postures had stiffened, and they looked at Kirk without seeing, listened without hearing him. Their attitude was one of waiting. An idea formed in Spock's mind. These creatures had not come to treat. They had come to start a war. Killing Starfleet's finest captain was a surefire way of doing that.

Silently, Spock rose and moved towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirk look at him. He shook his head minutely, not looking at him, and continued on his way. Jim barely paused in his explanation and Spock admired his ability to observe and react quickly.

Spock slipped out the door and looked down the deserted hallway. The Romulan spotted him and its face contorted into a mask of rage. It would have yelled, Spock knew, as it ran at him, but the Romulan was trying to be discreet, still planning to ambush the Human in the next room. Silently, it tore down the hallway, weapon raised. Spock did not move, but let every ounce of protective instinct for his Captain flood him as he stood there. Again he had a flash memory of blood, heat, violence, and his fingers curled into fists as the Romulan approached him. He stepped nimbly sideways at the last moment, and the Romulan crashed through the doors into the briefing room.

The ambassadors leapt to their feet. The Klingon lunged for Jim, who executed a perfect dive roll across the table. Spock saw none of this. The Romulan twisted as it fell, grabbing Spock's shirt and pulling him down through the splintered door. Its hands fastened about his throat. He seized it by the wrists.

"Spock!" Jim's cry brought Spock back to reality. He looked up to see the Klingon pinning Jim to the wall, its clawed fingers at his neck. Spock shoved the Romulan off of him and launched himself at Jim's attacker. He hit the Klingon's body with such force that it wrenched Jim from its grasp. They slammed into the floor. Spock struggled to grip the Klingon's shoulder, but the Klingon seemed to know about the Vulcan death grip and twisted this way and that to avoid it.

Spock heard Kirk struggling as the two Romulans descended on him. He felt a growl rip from his throat. He gave up trying to paralyze the Klingon and settled for punching it squarely in the jaw. The Klingon's body went limp and Spock stood up, looking wildly around for Jim. He was across the room, wrestling with the Romulans near the remains of the door. The Romulans' hands were smeared with red Human blood. Spock froze, fear sending goose bumps across his flesh.

 _No_.

It wasn't until he was halfway across the room that Spock realized he was screaming. He slammed into the heavier Romulan, the one who had ambushed them, forcing it back through the ruined door. The fiberglass shards tore at his shirt, scraping his skin, but he did not feel them. He wrenched the weapon out of its grasp. Gripping it tightly, he snapped the blade in half. The Romulan groped for the pieces, but Spock tossed them away and they skittered down the hall. He clamped one hand down over the Romulan's face, smearing it with green blood. He pressed on its nose and mouth, cutting off its air supply. The Romulan scratched at his face and neck, but he pushed harder, feeling the cartilage in its nose shift and pop beneath his hand. He added his other hand, pressing into the Romulan's throat.

Dimly, he heard the distinct sound of Kirk delivering a chop to the other Romulan's neck. There was the sound of a body hitting the floor, but he did not turn to see whose it was. He dug the heel of his hand into the Romulan's neck until he felt something snap. The body went limp beneath him.

Slowly, Spock removed his hands. Two streams of blood trickled out of the Romulans broken nose, mixing with the blood from Spock's hands. A dark green bruise was forming around its neck. Its head sat at a funny, unnatural angle, the neck bent where it shouldn't be. Empty eyes glared up at Spock.

_Murderer._

Spock stood up slowly, staring at his blood-soaked hands. Kirk walked over to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. Spock nodded without looking at him. Kirk pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. Spock supposed that he'd contacted the ship, because the next thing he knew they were materializing in the transporter room.

Still, the only thing he could see were his hands, smeared with blood.

"Bloody hell," Scotty's voice said. "Dr. McCoy, get down here  _now!_ "

Spock was confused. There was no emergency. He was not hurt, the blood on his hands was not his own. He had only _murdered_  another creature. Dr. McCoy could do nothing to fix that. He stood, stupefied, as McCoy ran in and then left again with Jim at his side.

After several moments of silence, his eyes focused on a trail of red splatters on the floor, and one thought burst through the numbness in his mind.

 _Jim_.

* * *

"How long has he been there?"

"All night."

"All  _night_?"

"Is that  _blood_  on his hands?"

"Whose-?"

"He won't let me wash it off."

"Have you tried?"

" _You_  wanna try?"

The voices did not make sense, but Spock didn't care.

"He's got cuts on his face…"

"His back, too."

Jim lay sleeping on a hospital bed. His shirt was off, exposing the clean white bandage around his chest and stomach.

"Will be be okay?"

" _He'll_  be fine."

"What about - ?"

"I don't know."

The shallow cuts on Jim's face and arms did not worry Spock. The deep gash on his side was another matter entirely. The doctor had stitched it up, but it would be a few days before the Captain would be well enough to return to work.

_Jim. Jim! Wake up. I need you._

Slowly, Spock became aware of his surroundings. He heard the faint thrum of the monitor over Jim's head, counting his faint heartbeats and shallow breaths. He sensed the crowd behind him, sensed their worry for the Captain.

They did not know the meaning of the word.

 _Wake up!_  Spock shouted through the bond. The shield lay in tatters, his fear screaming through to Jim's mind.  _Do_ not _leave me, t'hy'la. Not now._  No longer was he concerned that Jim would discover the bond. Such discovery, in fact, was now imminent. The bond was no longer one single thread. It was quickly on its way to becoming a full bond. All that remained now was for Jim to reach out with his mind to complete the process.

_Jim._

Spock did not know how long he stood there, watching the Captain for some sign of life. After what must have been hours, Jim's breathing slowed. Spock watched the tension go out of him, and felt himself relaxing as well. He turned. Dr. McCoy was sitting at his desk, watching the Captain and First Officer closely.

"Very well, doctor," Spock said, "You may attend to my injuries."

"It's about damn time—" McCoy started to say, but a look from Spock silenced him. Wordlessly, the Vulcan held out his hands. There were deep cuts across both of his palms where he had gripped the Romulan's weapon to break it. McCoy sprayed his palms with something that dissolved the dried blood, and then scrubbed Spock's hands with a towel.

Spock kept himself detached from the procedure, blocking the neural impulses that allowed him to feel pain. His every thought was bent on the man across the room. He was only dimly aware of the doctor stitching up the cuts on his hands, and didn't even notice when Nurse Chapel came to assist him.

He measured time by Jim's slow breaths. Every five breaths, he sent out a gentle probe to test Jim's mind for any signs of consciousness. Three hundred twenty three breaths later, something stirred in Jim's mind.

_Spock…_

The Vulcan pushed McCoy off of him, striding over to Jim's bedside.

"Captain?" he said softly. Jim's eyelids flickered. " _Jim_?"

With devastating slowness, the Human opened his eyes. He looked aimlessly around the room before focusing on Spock's face, his eyes clouded, not really seeing.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. Spock nodded. Jim frowned. "The Klingons?" Spock didn't know the answer to that, so he turned to Doctor McCoy.

"As far as we know, they haven't followed us," McCoy said, bringing Spock a chair.

"Good," Kirk sighed. Spock couldn't stop the wave of concern that washed through him. Kirk smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Spock. I'll be fine." He frowned again. "You…saved my life, didn't you?"

"Yes," Spock said.  _Yes, I_ killed _that Romulan to save you life, Jim, because I love you and I_ refuse _to let you die._

The clouds in Jim's eyes faded. "What did you say?" he asked.

"I said 'yes'," Spock said slowly.

"No…. No, you said-" Jim broke off, staring at Spock incredulously.

Spock's blood went cold. This was  _not_  how he had intended Jim to find out. He stood up, sending his chair crashing to the floor. Kirk reached for his hand, but he snatched it away unthinkingly. Jim tried to sit up and McCoy forced him back down.

"Don't you dare, Jim," he said. Spock stumbled backwards, out of the room. Jim's thoughts followed him, ringing in his ears.

_Spock. Don't- No. Come back…_

But he could not. His illogical human fear overwhelmed him and he ran.


	7. Chapter 7

_Jeopardy: noun:_ _hazard: a source of danger; a possibility of incurring loss or misfortune._

_Confession: noun:_ _an act of_ _confessing_ _;_ _especially_ _**:** _ _a disclosure of one's sins in the sacrament of reconciliation._

* * *

Cautiously, Spock opened his eyes. He had been forcing himself to sleep for the past several hours, keeping his thoughts as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the Captain further. A glance at his clock told him what he needed to know. It was very late at night, when most of the crew would be asleep. Including Jim. Spock could afford to be awake now.

"Good morning, Mr. Spock."

There was no mistaking that voice. Spock leapt to his feet.

"Captain," he said stiffly, backing up against the wall, putting as much space between them as possible.

"Relax, Spock," Jim said, standing up from Spock's desk chair. He was wearing an open shirt over his bandage and it was all Spock could do not to stare at the exposed skin, gleaming in the low light, slick with sweat from the oppressive heat of his quarters. He looked instead at the floor. "I'm not mad at you. I'm a little…confused, but I am  _not_  mad."

Spock risked a glance at the Human's face. The tenderness he saw there surprised him into speech.

"What are you confused about, Jim?" he asked.

 _How is_ this _possible?_  Jim's thoughts came through the bond as clearly as if he'd spoken them out loud. "How can I … hear you, how can you hear me? I thought that Vulcan telepathy only worked through skin contact…?"

"Generally, that is the case. However, as you know, there are cases in which two individuals are linked, to know each other's thoughts." Spock's voice dropped in pitch. "Such is the case with married couples."

"But we're not married."

"No. We are bonded however."  _I am sorry_.

"How are we bonded? How did it…happen?"

"I cannot be sure, but I believe that my  _katra_  reached out to you in order to heal itself after the upheaval of my  _first_  pon farr." Speaking of this sacred, beautiful bond in such coldly clinical terms was painful, but Jim  _had_ to know. It was too late now to turn back.

"You said a bond was… more than a betrothal, less than a marriage. Are you and I, then…?"

Spock shook his head. "This bond is incomplete."

"How so?" Jim asked, his eyes troubled.

"It is merely my mind reaching to yours. There are no ties to link your mind to mine."

"So…what happens now?"

Spock dropped his gaze and said nothing.

"Spock?" Jim stepped closer. Spock cringed, pressing himself against the wall. He fisted his hands around the red hangings, feeling the fibers tear under his grip. If he could not suppress these urges-

"It's like last time, isn't it?" Jim asked. Spock nodded blankly, his jaw clenched. "Bones said you were stressed, but I had no idea… Since Argelius—" Spock watched the emotions play across Jim's face as he struggled for words. Concern, confusion, and then finally, recognition. "-Oh, God, Spock, I'm so sorry! If I had known—" Jim moved to grasp Spock's shoulders.

"Do not touch me," the Vulcan hissed. "You do not understand. This  _is_  a second pon farr. It should not have happened, but—"

"But it did. Spock, pon farr will kill you unless…" Jim broke off, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

" _Now_  you understand," Spock said, his voice barely audible. "The bond must be consummated."

Jim took a step back. "Or you will… die." It was not a question.

"What is your decision?" Spock asked simply.

Jim did not have time to answer. Spock's computer whistled.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk." It was Chekov's voice, worried and shaky. Kirk backed up to Spock's desk and pressed the button, his eyes never leaving Spock's face.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, our sensors have picked up a Romulan ship headed our way."

"I'll be right there," Kirk said. But he didn't move. He looked at Spock, his eyebrows furrowed in an anxious line. For a full minute neither of them spoke.

"You are needed on the bridge, Captain. Let me know when you have made up your mind."

The words hung between them for a moment.

"I will be back," Jim promised. And then he left. Spock did not know whether to believe him or not.

Jim stopped just outside Spock's door, his heart pounding. He gave himself just five seconds to collect his thoughts before heading to the bridge.

Spock was bonded…to him. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be a problem. ….Wouldn't it? Sharing your mind with someone, that was a pretty intimate set-up. But this was  _Spock_ , this was his  _best friend_ , and there was  _no_  one he would rather- Kirk sighed. But that was only half of it.

And if he didn't – Spock would  _die_  and it would be  _his fault!_  Disgust overwhelmed him, and self-loathing, and he punched the turbolift wall in anger. An instant later, the doors opened.

"Are you okay, Captain?" Chekov asked.

"I'm fine," Kirk said, hastily rearranging his expression. "Chekov, science station please. Mr. Sulu, status report."

"Nothing to report, sir," Sulu said. "They're just…sitting there."

Kirk studied the view screen. A Romulan ship was facing them head on.

"They haven't armed phasers or anything?"

"None. Their shields aren't even up."

Kirk cocked his head to one side. "Uhura, open a hailing frequency."

_If it's Spock they want, I'll die first._

"Channel open, sir," Uhura said.

"Enterprise to commander, Romulan vessel. Come in."

"Here,  _Captain_ ," a voice sneered.

"You are in violation of the neutral zone. If you leave immediately, we will not punish you. However, if you continue to violate the treaty, we will be forced to take action against you."

"Not so fast, Captain Kirk. Your Vulcan crewmember killed one of my men. What do you propose we do about that?"

"It was an act of self-defense," Kirk said sharply, drawing several looks from his crew. "I propose you let it slide on that legality and leave. Now."

"I don't think so," the Romulan captain said. The line closed with a sinister noise.

"Captain, they're locking torpedoes," Sulu said.

"Go to red alert. Divert all power to forward shields," Kirk ordered. "Mr. Chekov, fire torpedoes on my signal."

"Shields up, sir."

"Fire!"

There was the zing of a photon torpedo being launched, and in the same breath, the ship rocked as the Romulan torpedoes hit it.

"Mr. Sulu?"

"Shields intact, sir."

"Fire another torpedo, Mr. Chekov."

On the viewscreen, they watched the Romulan ship rock backwards, one of its wings blown off.

"They can't follow us now," Kirk said, but he was not satisfied. Spock had been completely justified in his actions, but here they were, after his blood. They wanted him to die – _he'd die anyway_ —but Kirk would be damned if he let them take Spock while he could stop them -  _my fault!_

"Orders, sir?" Sulu asked.

"They want Spock dead," Kirk whispered, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"They're firing another torpedo," Sulu added. "Orders?"

"Target the photon torpedo. Empty phaser banks into their weapons facility."

"Phasers locked on target, sir," Chekov said as their ship was rocked by another explosion.

"Our shields are down, sir. Whatever you're going to do, do it fast," Sulu advised.

"Fire," Kirk hissed. The phasers tore through the Romulan ship, decimating the weapons system and leaving a smoking crater in the hull. He sat back in his chair, breathing heavily.

"Status report," he said to the room at large.

"Onboard communications and personnel locator inoperative captain," Uhura reported. "All other systems functioning normally."

"Hull intact, sir. Our shields gave out, but she's unharmed."

"I'm going to take that to mean we have no casualties," Kirk said optimistically.  _Not yet._

The turbolift doors hissed open and Scotty walked in.

"We've still got full power," he said cheerfully. "She's pulled us through yet again."

"So she has," Kirk sighed. "Warp factor six, Mr. Sulu. Let's get out of here." His stomach gave a funny nervous roll. "I'm…going to go visit Dr. McCoy." He walked almost gingerly into the turbolift.  _If I let him die, I'm no better than those Romulan scum._  His stomach turned at the thought.

When he got to sickbay, McCoy was waiting for him. At the sight of Jim's ashen face, he hopped up and fetched some brandy.

"Figured it out, have you?" he asked as he poured two glasses of the amber liquid.

"How long have you known?"

"Since about…thirteen hours ago."

"What happened thirteen hours ago?"

"He killed a Romulan and then stood at your bedside all night. That combined with his stress levels, pon farr was the obvious conclusion."

Kirk tossed back his brandy. "You understand, then, what has to happen."

McCoy twitched. "I'm trying not to think about that part," he said honestly. "But Jim, he only has a day left, at most. It's been seven days since Argelius."

Jim froze in the act of raising another glass to his lips. So this was it, then. A few hours ago, he hadn't know, well,  _anything_ , and now he was facing what was sure to be the biggest decision of his life, with less than twenty-four hours to think it over.

"And then, of course, there's the small matter of his superior strength to consider," McCoy continued. "You may not survive such an…encounter."

"So?" Jim spat. McCoy raised his eyebrows. "Bones,  _nothing_  matters more than he does."

"Not even the Argelian girl?"

Kirk sighed. "No." He shook his head. "No, she never—Dammit, Bones,  _no one_  has ever—" his voice dropped "—meant…as much to me…as he does."

"So you'll risk your life to save his?"

"Of course I would, what kind of a question is that?"

"Then  _what_  are you still doing here, Jim?"

Kirk was silent for a long time.

"I'm…afraid," he finally admitted.

"Of what?" McCoy asked.

"I don't know. I…I love Spock. That's  _glaringly_  obvious. But… I feel like this is so crucial, so  _fragile_  that, if something goes wrong…" He trailed off.

"Jim, we've known each other longer than I'm willing to admit. I think I know better than you do how you feel about Spock. I've seen the way you look at him, the way you can't help but smile. You're not as subtle as you think."

"What's your point?" Jim asked, smiling ruefully through his frown.

"My point is, you are  _right_  with him. I've watched you with girls for years. It's obvious to me that you didn't love them. Not the way you love Spock. As your Chief Medical Officer, there are a number of reasons I could cite for you to go through with this, most of which have to do with 'the greater good' and saving Spock's life. But as you friend… You need this just as much as he does. You need  _him_  just as much as he needs you."

"I know," Kirk said, standing up. "That's what's so frightening."


	8. Chapter 8

_Rage: (noun) 1) strong emotion, enthusiasm, or desire._

_Release: (verb) 1) to set free. (noun) 1) relief from emotional tension through spontaneous, uninhibited expression of an emotion._

_Finally: (adverb) 1) decisively, conclusively, irrevocably._

_Sonnet 116 – William Shakespeare  
_ _Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
_ _Admit impediments. Love is not love  
_ _Which alters when it alteration finds,  
_ _Or bends with the remover to remove:  
_ _O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
_ _That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
_ _It is the star to every wandering bark,  
_ _Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
_ _Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
_ _Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
_ _Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
_ _But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
_ _If this be error and upon me proved,  
_ _I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

* * *

James Kirk left sickbay in a hurry, urgency gnawing at his insides. He strode through the corridors, his expression sending crew members leaping out of his way. A distant corner of his mind wanted to reassure them that everything was okay, but it wasn't. His First Officer's life was hanging by a thread, and he knew that if Spock died, he would  _never_  recover.

He arrived at Spock's quarters and buzzed the door insistently. No one answered. Pulse quickening, he entered the Captain's override code and stepped inside. The silence was absolute.

"Spock?" Kirk called. No answer. He tried to keep his worry at bay as he poked his head around the room divider to check the bed. It was empty. With a growing sense of unease, he searched the rest of the cabin. It was immaculately clean and organized. Aside from the Vulcan wall hangings, there was no sign that Spock had ever lived in these rooms. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Kirk closed his eyes.  _Where are you?_  he called silently.

A feverish moan rippled through the bond, and Kirk shivered. He stood still, trying to block out his five Human senses and trace the source of the pain. A familiar feeling egged him back out into the corridor. He recognized it after a while, that same feeling that nagged him whenever Spock was in danger. In his mind's eye he could see the stars passing in the black void of space, and he walked faster.

When he reached the observation deck, he went in and locked the door behind him, overriding all access. He turned around. Spock was sitting on a low bench at the other end of the room, slouching forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Jim approached him slowly. The Vulcan stiffened at the sound of his footsteps, but did not turn around.

"Spock," Jim said quietly. Spock whirled around in a disconcertingly fast movement. Jim stopped short. Spock's face, while usually pale, was a frightening, waxy white, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. But what startled Jim the most were Spock's eyes. In sharp contrast to the rest of his drawn expression, his eyes were bright and alive, pupils dilated, fixed intently on Jim's approaching figure.

"Are you…okay?" Jim asked cautiously, closing the distance between them and sitting down on Spock's bench.

"No," Spock said, his voice hoarse. "As to whether or not I  _will_ be, that remains to be seen." His eyes flickered significantly over Jim's body. But the fear in his voice was obvious. Jim reached out a hand to comfort his friend.

"Close your eyes," Jim whispered. He placed his hand against the side of Spock's face. The Vulcan shuddered at the touch and a faint moan escaped his lips. His eyelids fluttered closed and his entire body relaxed the tiniest bit. Jim closed his eyes as well, concentrating.

Through their skin contact, despite the minimal contact that there was, Jim could feel every facet of Spock's mind focused on it, on him. For a moment, Jim was lost in the storm of emotions raging in Spock's  _katra_ : fear, pain, anger, desire, uncertainty, love. He concentrated his own thoughts into a single thread and sent it spiraling to join the bond that was stretching from Spock's mind. When the two finally connected, Jim was overwhelmed by a deluge of sensation. He could feel the coolness of his palm against Spock's skin, could feel Spock's body trembling in the air that was so cold to his Vulcan skin. Jim could see, now, _exactly_  how difficult and painful this past week had been for Spock. The Vulcan's body had been in a near-constant state of sexual arousal, but there was nothing that could be done to sooth it. The extent of Spock's desire overwhelmed him, but he could not find it in himself to be frightened.

Through the bond now glowing brightly in both of their minds, Jim pushed every memory he had of Spock: every secretly shared smile, every miniscule touch, every moment of worry or jealousy or fear or happiness.

Jim's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden presence of Spock's lips against his, rough and insistent. When they broke apart, he saw that Spock's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. It wasn't until Spock raised a hand to Jim's wet cheek that he realized he was crying as well.

"Be aware, Spock, I'm not doing this  _just_  to save your life," he admitted. Spock nearly smiled.

"I would forbid you if that were the case," Spock said, kissing him again. He trailed his hands down Jim's arms, caressing each of his fingers. Jim couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped his lips. He moved his fingers languidly against Spock's, relishing the electric jolts of arousal surging from Spock's body to his.

When Jim pulled back for air, Spock transferred his mouth to the underside of Jim's jaw, kissing him with hot, wet, maddeningly gentle kisses. Jim stood, pulling Spock up with him in an effort to close the little distance between their bodies. The fabric of Spock's shirt grazed his sensitive nipples and he bit his lip to suppress a groan.

Spock kissed the Human ravenously, sliding his hands under Jim's open shirt. He could feel Jim's skin heating beneath his touch, his pulse beating rapidly under Spock's fingertips. Jim's breathing roared in his ears as Spock ghosted his lips across the Human's collarbone. Jim made an angry sound in the back of his throat, pressing his lips back to Spock's with a hunger that would have startled him, had it not been a mirror image of his own.

Jim's hands fisted in Spock's hair, tugging at the fine black strands, sending a flash burn of arousal through them both. Spock's hands tightened around Jim's upper arms, eliciting a cry of pain from the Human. His grip lessened immediately.

"I am so sorry, Jim," he whispered against Jim's lips. "I did not mean to cause you pain."

"You're a Vulcan, Spock." Jim smiled forgivingly. "With your strength, well…" He trailed off, trying and failing to keep the nervousness from his voice.

"I will do my best not to harm you," Spock promised.

"Stop talking, Spock," Jim said, kissing the Vulcan's neck. For half a second, Spock's mind went completely, blissfully, blank.

Then Jim found himself pressed tight to the wall, every inch of Spock's body hard against his. He squeezed his hands between their bodies and grabbed a fistful of Spock's shirts. The Vulcan groaned as Jim peeled the shirts off of his body and then grinned wickedly as he kissed Spock again, sliding his tongue into his mouth. Spock's reaction was instantaneous, his arousal evident not only through the bond, but in the demanding movements of his hips against Jim's. Jim pressed back, matching Spock's movements, moaning with the friction.

Spock slipped his hands under Jim's shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. The fluid sound of the fabric falling to the floor harmonized beautifully with their ragged breaths and pounding heartbeats. He held Jim to him, drinking in the smell of his skin, warm, musky, unmistakably familiar, and very Human. Their bodies slid against each other, slick with sweat. The bandage around Jim's stomach was damp with it. Spock pressed his hands against the small of Jim's back, grinding their hips together. A small, unnaturally hard shape in Jim's pocket pressed uncomfortably into his hipbone.

"What is that in your pocket?" he asked, pulling back.

"I have no idea," Jim admitted, fishing it out. It looked like a miniature tube of toothpaste. Upon closer inspection, he could make out two words, printed white on white. "Personal lubricant." Jim promptly blushed a deep scarlet.

"What is it, Jim?" Spock asked concernedly. Wordlessly, Jim handed him the tube, shaking with silent laughter. Spock looked at it. Jim watched him closely as he arched an eyebrow, a faint green blush creeping up his cheeks. "Judging by your reaction, you did not expect to find this in your pocket," he said, smoothly covering up his own astonishment.

"No I didn't," Jim said, calming down. "As a matter of fact, I have no id— _Bones_."

"Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked, confused.

"Duh, Spock. He brought me a change of clothes this morning, he must have stuck this in there before he gave them to me." Jim shook his head. "He always saw too much."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Spock said, leaning in for another kiss. "Smart of him, though," he added as an afterthought, kissing Jim again, and then again, always pulling back just out of reach of Jim's searching lips.

Spock studied Jim's face closely as he trailed his fingers down the blonde's sides, sliding them beneath the waistband of his black uniform pants. Jim's eyes fluttered closed and he bit his lip. Hard. One drop of crimson blood blossomed on his lower lip and Spock swept it away with his tongue. Jim's mouth captured his as he pulled away, ruthless and demanding. Spock kissed him back fiercely, the fever rising within him.

"Jim," he managed to gasp into Jim's ear, "I cannot wait much longer."

"Is it wrong that I'm turned on by the urgency of your current situation?" Jim asked cheekily. Spock could hear the smile in his voice, but there were no words…. He bucked his hips against Jim's, nipping the Human's shoulder with his teeth. Jim let out an animalistic growl, his fingernails carving half-moons into Spock's shoulders. Spock's hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jim's pants, the process made difficult by the fact that the fabric was stretched taut with Jim's arousal.

Once he had the fastenings undone, he knelt, pulling off Jim's boots and socks. Slowly he eased the fabric of Jim's pants down over his hips and thighs, keeping his gaze lowered. With the pants now in a puddle on the floor, Spock skimmed his hands up Jim's thighs, his fingertips grazing the front of the Human's briefs. Jim's mouth opened in a silent moan. Kissing him softly, Spock slipped his fingers inside Jim's briefs, dragging his fingernails through the fine, curling hair on the lower part of Jim's abdomen.

" _Jim_ ," Spock hissed urgently. The Human nodded, but made no movement, so Spock stepped away and unfastened his own trousers. He pushed them, and his briefs, off his legs and then looked up at Jim. The Captain cocked his head to one side interestedly. As Spock bent to pull off his boots, Jim circled him slowly, his gaze taking in every inch of the Vulcan's exposed skin: his wide, lean shoulders, the muscles rippling on his back, his narrow waist and smooth round buttocks, impossibly long legs wrapped in chords of lean muscle. Spock straightened up to see Kirk watching him, eyes narrowed in savage delight. Jim's eyes trailed slowly down Spock's body, and even slower on the way back up. Spock watched his eyes darken like water, the green glinting in the low light. Jim walked slowly towards him until they were an inch apart. Then he rocked forward, fitting himself against Spock's body. Spock gasped sharply at the feel of Jim's skin against his fevered, sensitive flesh.

 _You are beautiful_. Jim pressed himself closer, his lips on Spock's collarbone.  _Spock you are_ so _– damn, it hurts to_ look _at you._

Spock tried to convey how he felt without words. How he loved Jim for his amazing mind, his delicious body, his bravery and fearlessness, for his love of the crew; his fondness for Jim's little quirks and the way he looked when he was angry; and his desire for possession, to love Jim completely and be loved in return.

Jim kissed him, and this kiss was slow, gentle, and unhurried. Spock felt a smile cross his features.  _I promise, Jim, I will make this as painless as possible._

 _I trust you_.

Jim broke the embrace, turning to pick up the small white tube from where Spock had dropped it. Spock took advantage of the moment to appraise the body before him, his eyes devouring Jim's muscular form. He didn't give the Human a chance to turn around, but stepped up behind him quickly, gliding his hands around Jim's waist and gently removing the tube from his hands.

" _You_  are still relatively clothed, Jim," he growled.

"So why don't you do something about it, Spock?" Jim hissed, grinning.

Spock chuckled darkly, sending goose bumps across Jim's skin. He curled his fingers around the waistband of Jim's briefs and pulled, tearing the cotton and snapping the elastic against Jim's skin. He gasped sharply, but Spock knew that the pain wasn't entirely unwelcome. Still, he bent and placed a long, soft kiss against Jim's hip, where a red mark was forming. Jim moaned breathlessly and Spock felt the Human's heartbeat quicken.

Tossing the ruined garment aside, he straightened up, put his palms flat against Jim's back, and bent the Human forward at the waist, instructing him to brace his hands against the wall. Jim obeyed, and Spock ran his hands back down to Jim's waist. One corner of the white tube scraped Jim's side, as Spock was holding it in two fingers. Spock felt the pain through the bond, but did not waste his precious time with it. Slowly, he unscrewed the lid and squeezed the clear gel into his palm, where it warmed immediately. His desperation was reaching a fever pitch, and he knew Jim's was as well.

 _God, Spock, please. Please! I fucking need you_ now _._

 _Soon, Jim. So soon._  Spock's thoughts were quieter, but his angry desire mirrored the Human's. His hand snaked around Jim's waist, matching the movements of his body, determined to pleasure him equally.

_Spock! I—Oh. Ohhhhhh GOD._

Spock growled, lost for words in Jim's warmth.

_Spock, I love you, you know that, right?_

_As I love you, my t'hy'la._

_What's-? Oh God._ Spock _!_

_! ! ! !_

* * *

Jim awoke to Spock rubbing gentle circles in the small of his back. They were lying, legs entangled, on the floor of the observation deck. The lights had been dimmed to almost-darkness. It was comfortable. Too comfortable. It was then that Jim realized he was laying  _on_  Spock, using the Vulcan's chest as a pillow.

"Sorry, Spock," he grunted, trying to get up.

"Stay," Spock commanded. He kissed Jim lightly, pushing a few wayward strands of blonde hair off his forehead. Jim looked at him. It was obvious that Spock was still tired, but he was content, his eyes warm and happy. Kirk hadn't realized how long it had been since Spock had been this relaxed.

"So beautiful," Jim whispered, kissing him deeply. He felt his body respond, burning slow like molten rock. Slow, steady, and eternal. Dimly, he wondered if he would always  _want_  Spock this fervently.

 _I hope so_.

Jim smiled. Spock smiled too, his teeth grazing Jim's lower lip.

"O-kaaaay…" Jim gasped as a violent spike of arousal lanced through him. "We're both needed on the bridge, Spock. We should – ahhh…" He struggled to hold onto his argument as Spock kissed his neck, his tongue making lazy circles on the tender skin.

"You saved my life, Jim," he said after a while. "I am eternally grateful to you for that."

"I love you, Spock," Jim said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you died, I-" the words caught in his throat. "I don't even want to think about that."

"Then don't," Spock said, kissing him again. This time, Jim didn't protest.


	9. Chapter 9

_Gone: adjective: 1) lost, ruined. 2) dead. 3) characterized by sinking or dropping, ie: the empty or gone feeling in the abdomen so common in elevators_

* * *

"And you, Spock? Where will you go?"

"I will go to Vulcan."

". . . Check . . . Vulcan? For how long?"

"For good."

"It's your move, Sp- . . . For  _good_?"

"Yes."

"But… what are you going to do?"

"I am going to complete the Vulcan discipline of Kolinahr."

"To purge all emotion?"

"Yes, Jim."

"Why?"

"I need…answers."

"What's the question?"

_I need to find out if this is real, or merely a frail attempt by my weak Human mind to heal itself._

_No, Spock._ No _. This_ is _real._

"We do not know that for certain."

"Spock, it's been two years."  _And it's still here. What does_ that _tell you?_

"I need answers, Captain. The only place to find the answers I need is Vulcan."

"Then I'll come with - Why are you shaking your head, Spock?"

"Because you cannot come with me, Jim."

"Give me one good reason why not."

"I will not be able to purge all emotions with you present."

"Then you  _do_  still….care for me."

"Of course I do. That is  _why_  I must –"

"Spock, your existence  _proves_  that Vulcans and Humans  _can_  love one anther!"

"I should not exist at all! . . . . . My mother, throughout her pregnancy, had to be closely monitored, and my birth was an extremely difficult and painful process for her, unnaturally so. Vulcan and Human blood mix only under the best of circumstances. They were flirting with disaster, trying to bring me into the world."

"But it  _worked_. You're  _here_ , with me. I could reach out and  _touch_  you…"

"Please, do not."

"Obviously you  _are_  supposed to exist!"

"No. My Human half has made me weak. Only through Kolinahr can I unburden myself from the pain."

"But… it hasn't… hasn't  _all_  been pain, has it?"

"Oh, Jim, of course not, and for that I thank you."

". . . . ."

"It is your move, Captain."

"I don't feel like playing chess anymore."

Spock closed his eyes. "Goodbye my…my t'hy'la." When he opened them, Jim was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

_Real: (adjective) 1) of or relating to fixed, permanent, or immovable things. 2) not artificial, fraudulent, or illusory._

_Final: (adjective) 1) not to be altered or undone_

* * *

"Now scanning Pons area, spinal nerve fiber connection."

Christine Chapel's voice seemed to come to him from a great distance away. Kirk opened his eyes wide, trying to focus them against the pain.

For the past two and a half years the bond had been silent. He and Spock hadn't even said goodbye, not really. Over time the bond had grown dormant, and he stopped trying to reawaken it. He buried himself in his work, trying desperately to recreate some semblance of a life for himself.

It worked, to an extent. The splitting headache faded after a few months, giving way to a dull throbbing in his right temple. After about a year he stopped noticing that, too. And with Spock aboard the  _Enterprise_  it had  _almost_ gone away, and Kirk had almost,  _almost_  felt whole again.

But now Spock lay dying, his mind and body overwhelmed by what he had received from V'Ger. Kirk felt as though his skull were splitting open, cracking like the hull of a watermelon. The bond was being torn out by the roots, and it was not happening quickly. A quick, clean break would be merciful. This was anything but. Kirk could hear Bones' voice, he should be listening, it was probably important…

Little black spots were dancing in his vision. He blinked a few times but this did little to help. The images on the screen before him drifted in and out of focus, the colors running together sluggishly. He locked his muscles in place, forcing himself to stay upright.

Then, without warning, his head burst open – but it didn't hurt anymore, it was warm and light and Spock was  _laughing_.

Jim whirled around. The room was still out of focus, save for Spock's face where he lay on the hospital bed. Jim was to his side before Bones had even moved. The Vulcan was watching him, his eyes warm and alive and  _happy_.

"Spock," Jim whispered.

"Jim." Spock laughed again. Jim nearly shivered at the sound. After two and a half years…

"I should have known," Spock continued, his eyes still smiling.  _Leaving you was futile_. Jim wanted nothing more than to take Spock in his arms, to make up for the past two and a half years of separation, to promise to never be parted from him again… but there was still a world to be saved.

"Were you right? About V'Ger?" he asked.

Spock nodded. "A life-form of its own. A conscious, living entity."

"A living machine?" Dr. Chapel said incredulously. Spock's face closed the tiniest bit, as though he, too, had just remembered that there were other people in the room.

"It considers the  _Enterprise_  a living machine, that's why the probe referred to our ship as an 'entity'," Kirk mused aloud. He half-turned towards McCoy but found himself unable to look away from Spock's face. He felt as though he could look at him every day for the rest of eternity and it would  _still_  not be enough.

"V'Ger's planet was populated by living machines," Spock said. There was no trace of envy in his voice. "Unbelievable technology. V'Ger has knowledge that spans this universe." His eyes met Jim's again.  _It is not enough_.

Kirk leaned closer. He knew what was coming now: the answers that Spock – and himself – had been desperately searching for since the beginning.

Spock's eyes reflected pity now. "And yet, with all its pure logic, V'Ger is barren. Cold. No mystery. No beauty. I should've – known…" He trailed off, his eyes closing. The energy it had taken to speak was almost too much.

"No," Jim muttered.  _No, Spock, do_ not _leave me again_. He stretched out his hand. "No, come on. Spock."

"Captain," McCoy said, grabbing his elbow. Jim smacked his hand away, glaring.

" _Bones_." When the doctor didn't reply, Jim turned back to Spock, gripping the Vulcan's shoulders in his hands. "Spock," he pleaded, "What should you have known?"

Spock's eyes fluttered open. His gaze flickered, unfocused, around the room before settling on Jim's face. His eyes never left the Captain's as he brought one hand up to grasp the Human's arm, trying to convey what he dared not admit out loud.

"Jim," he whispered. Jim's expression softened, and he gripped Spock's hand in both of his. "This simple feeling," Spock continued, nearly smiling again, "is beyond V'Ger's comprehension."  _Let the others believe I'm talking about friendship. But Jim,_ _I **love**  you_.

Jim's eyes grew misty.  _So you're back? For good?_

Spock nodded.  _For good. Leaving you was…so wrong_. "No meaning. No hope." Again, an almost-smile. "And, Jim, no answers." Only Jim and Spock knew that he was not only talking about V'Ger, but also himself, his own struggles. "It's asking questions." He paused.  _As was I_.

"What questions?" Kirk asked, leaning over Spock again.

"Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?" Spock squeezed Jim's hand slightly.

_I have found my 'more.'_

Jim straightened up.  _I'm glad you've come back, Spock. You can't believe how I've missed you._ They locked eyes for a solid minute of silence.

"Bridge to Captain," Uhura's voice squawked over the computer.

 _Go on, Jim_ , Spock urged.  _Save the world again. I'm not going anywhere. I promise._

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on fanfiction.net 2010


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